


See No Evil, Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil (Larry Stylinson)

by BooBearx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:33:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooBearx/pseuds/BooBearx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can't see, hear or speak, sounds like he is pretty un-loveable, right? Not if Louis has anything to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Harry wasn't always blind. Harry wasn't always deaf. Harry wasn't always mute. There was a time before it happened. A time when he could speak, see and hear. That was long ago. When he wasn't bedridden, confined to the hard, scratchy mattress. A time when he could freely walk around without a person, male or female, family or stranger, friend or foe, pretty or ugly, high pitched or low pitched voice, having to supervise him. He is able to speak, but what is the point? He won't be able to hear the reply, see somebody sign something back to him, see a written response. Nothing. The only alternative is to imagine it. So he doesn't speak.  
   
One if the things he can do it think, nothing very intellectual though, he has the brain of an 11 year old even though he is 18, it was on his eleventh year he had the accident, he didn't have the chance to learn anything more after that. So you can only imagine how lonely he gets, in his head, trapped there, no escape, a maze of memories and thoughts.  
   
Pretty much the only other thing he can do is feel. He can feel the light breeze slipping by his arms when he's outside, the way the grass slips through the gaps in his toes, the dampness of the soil if it had rained. He likes to feel different things, different textures, different weights, anything really.  
   
He has started to feel something different though, the contact of skin against skin, a light brush against his arm of feather light fingertips. He guesses it's a male, from the hairs of the arm that rubs against his limb, the shortness of the nails are another tell-tale clue, the bluntness, he can remember when his mum used to hold his hand as he crossed the street when he was younger, sharp nails digging into his palm. The boy would tap light rhythms onto his arm, in the crook of his elbow, using his index and middle fingers. It was a welcomed sensation by Harry, it was different, it was new, and it was pleasant. When the patterns were being tapped onto his arms he didn't feel so alone, there was somebody there, sitting with him, revelling in his company, as much as to come back again, and that made him feel nice, warm and fuzzy inside. Sometimes they would draw pictures, little illustrations on his thigh, the pen never leaving the paper, dragging his finger across the skin, tickling at the outer tissue, making Harry's hair stand on end.

The person didn’t come every day, but often enough, he didn’t know the name of each day but he came: ‘physiotherapy day’, ‘stroll around the gardens day’ and ‘chicken for tea day’, he didn’t really know if these were a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…nobody ever told him, and even if they did he wouldn’t be able to hear, so he had to use different ways of defying the days, and that worked for him.

-***-

Louis didn’t make a habit of walking round hospitals visiting patients. To be honest, he didn’t make a habit of going to hospitals at all. But when you’re best friend works at one and you turn up early to pick her up, you have nothing else to do, unless you want to sit in the reception listening to crying people and hacking coughs, and that does not sound too appealing to Louis. So when Louis ended up in this situation, he was not too pleased. So that was how he found himself wondering around the hospital halls, thin white corridors that barely had enough room for two people to pass without brushing shoulders. Turning left he was stopped by a dead end, this end of the hospital was pretty deserted, the deeper into the building he got, the less patients, visitors and workers there were. It was a rather abrupt stop but nevertheless, Louis still did not fail to notice the single, wooden door, hidden deep in the wall, almost not wanting to be found. Always the curious one, Louis itched to open the door, but that didn’t stop him worrying about what was inside, a person with a very contagious disease? Dead people? Or the more imaginative part of Louis’ brain was thinking: maybe there is a massive three headed dog in there…like Harry Potter…that would be so _cool._ Brushing all these aside he grabbed a hold of the door knob, twisting it slightly, having to push at the door a little with his shoulder to help it along, he finally managed to open the door. It must have been pretty old as the hinges were rusty and creaked as it opened, the door swinging slightly then leaning to the side with one of the corners resting on the floor, almost as if to try and hold itself up. Scanning the room quickly he soon realised how _empty_ the room was, it was a small box shape, with 4 white walls and a single bed in the middle with crisp white sheets and a white bed side cabinet. It looked like it was from a fucking _Ikea_ commercial. Another thing he noticed was the lump in the bed, edging closer he saw that there was a boy tucked up under the sheets. He was turned on his side, you would have thought he was asleep if you couldn’t see the crystal green eyes staring straight ahead, not moving, and seemingly not noticing that Louis had just walked in. And Louis could _definitely_ see those eyes.

They were the sort of eyes that he would love to get lost in, and he probably could if the boy was looking in his direction. They were stunning, but they suited the rest of the boy as well, his rosy pink cheeks, contrasting with his milky white skin. He was thin and frail, like porcelain, almost as if one touch could break him. He had chocolate brown curls framing his face, looking like a halo spread out across the cushion, making him look younger than he was.

He couldn’t be much older than a teenager, Louis thought. Why would he be in a room like _this?_ In a _hospital_ of all places. Louis cleared his throat, trying to prevail upon the boy to look at him, it didn’t work. Shuffling closer, Louis dropped to his knees directly in front of the boy’s line of sight, so he had nowhere else to look.

“Ugh, hello” Louis said, trying to strike up a conversation, make a new friend, have someone to talk to. The boy didn’t move, completely ignored Louis, didn’t even flinch or revert his eyes to look somewhere else, he stayed staring straight at Louis, as if he could see right through him, it was creepy. Not knowing what to do Louis spoke again,

“Do you want me to leave? Because, ugh, if you don’t want to talk to me I can just go…” he said stuttering slightly. He got no response. Standing up to leave at the boy’s blatant rudeness, he tapped the boy’s arm as a goodbye. This seemed to get a reaction as the boy jumped slightly, his shoulders hunching forward in shock and his knees rising slightly as if to curl into himself. The younger boy turned onto his back and then sat up, using his arms to push himself up, he then sat shaking his hands in the air and pushing his hands around the bed, he looked like he was trying to grab something, obviously finding what he was looking for in Louis’ hand, which was laying limp on the bed, the boy grabbed it then swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood up, when he had safely positioned his feet on the ground. Watching the process in utter shock, Louis had no idea what was happening, all the boy’s movements were almost robotic, as if he had done this many times before, and _yes,_ Louis was a touchy feely person, but he was not (and never will be) so forward as to hold somebody’s hand as soon as he had met them, especially after refusing to speak to him and not socializing what so ever. The boy looked rather unstable, he was swaying slightly in the air, so Louis wrapped his arm around his thin waist, _yes,_ Louis did not like the boy as of yet, but that didn’t mean he wanted him to fall over.

That was about the time when a boy entered the room. He looked like a young nurse (well that was what Louis gathered in the blue pinny and everything) and he looked around the same age as Louis. He had a mop of brown hair styled to the side; he was pretty good looking too, he had to admit, but wasn’t Louis’ type. He looked a bit bewildered at the sight of Louis and the boy,

“What are you doing with Harry?” the nurse asked politely, so _that_ is the weird boy’s name. Louis looked at the boy that was hanging off his arm, Harry, what was he doing with him?

“Erm, I don’t really know, I just found this room, and I tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t reply and then he just sort of…leant on me?” Louis stuttered, what was he meant to reply? Was that the right answer? He didn’t really know what was going on to be quite honest. It was a bit unfair that the curly haired boy hadn’t spoken up yet though, and defended him, it was the least he could do for getting Louis in this mess in the first place. Now it just looks like he was kidnapping him.

“Of course he didn’t reply! He can’t speak, or hear or see for that matter. He must have thought you were me and were taking him for lunch, which I should be right now,” the nurse said, “The name’s Liam by the way” he added. Liam then stole Harry away from Louis, he tried his best to help pass him over, but he wasn’t the most delicate of people. When Liam and Harry were safely out the room, Louis sat on the bed Harry had recently occupied with his head in his hands.

He was confused, Harry couldn’t speak, see or hear, he was useless, a waste of space, how was he still alive? Something pretty bad must have happened for him to turn like that. But that didn’t stop the boy from corrupting Louis’ every thought.


	2. Part Two

Louis didn’t plan on going back to see Harry. He had enough to do with university, partying and trying to find a lover. But with the curly haired boy haunting his thoughts, a ghost of the one meeting re-appearing every time he shut his eyes, he had to. He _needed_ to. Maybe visiting again would rid the constant presence in his mind. So when the opportunity popped up in the event of one of his little sisters breaking her arm and having to be cared for in the exact same hospital Harry was staying at, there was no stopping him. Don’t get him wrong, he did go and visit her, and take her presents, but he did also visit Harry.

Walking down the hallway again to Harry’s room he wondered if this was the right thing to do. What exactly was there for him? A boy who was about as useful to him as a cat, and at least he could play with cats and they would meow at him if they wanted anything, but not this boy, he sat there silent, like a statue. But maybe that was a bad example, he didn’t even like cats, and he sure liked Harry if the amount of time he spent thinking about him had anything to do with it. He didn’t bother knocking on the door; he wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway. Flexing his fingers and having a battle with the wooden slab, he finally managed to open it. Slipping in, he saw Harry sat up, facing the door, in his bed, tucked up under the linen covers. Edging closer Louis pulled up a chair that was pushed up to the side of them room, and dragged it across the space and plonked it right next to the bed. He dropped himself onto it and stared at Harry for a while. Most people would think it was creepy, but with no one to judge him, he just did as he pleased. But soon enough just staring at the boy didn’t satisfy him, he wanted to socialize with him in some way, make a connection. But with not being able to speak to him, what was he meant to do? But the only remaining factor was to touch him, but what if he did the same as last time? What if he switched on and started to move again, what could he do? Hoping for the best, Louis began to tap his arm. He pressed a little beat into Harry’s arm, almost like a heartbeat.

_Tap-tap, Tap-tap_

The boy did move, but he didn’t stand up or start moving around.

_Tap-tap, Tap-tap_

He jerked his arm out of Louis’ path and moved it southwards, pushing his elbow gently into the pillow; he then grabbed a hold of Louis’ index finger and squeezed slightly, almost as if to let him know he realized he was there, like a greeting.

Pleasantly surprised, Louis held Harry’s hand, to let him know he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, and began to rub circles with his thumb onto the back of his hand, for comfort, for company, and for support. He then flipped his iPhone out and had a mad, one-handed game of Angry Birds and checked his Facebook updates, he didn’t have a very long concentration span, but he was not about to leave Harry when he had only just found refuge in his presence.

-***-

 _He’s here again. He came a few days ago. Why is he back?_ Harry brain was messed up. Too many thoughts running through it all at once. _Why,_ was the main question. The boy with the gentle, soft hands with the careful, caressing touch was back again. His mum had given up after the first visit, many years ago, how come this stranger can put up with him better than her? The one woman in his life that had stuck through all the bullies at school, raised him, but also left him, just when he needed her the most, because a mutant son was too difficult for her to cope with. _Selfish._ That is what she was, _selfish._ But he didn’t need her, not now. Not with the new and exciting person. Maybe the boy is not even a stranger, maybe he has met him before. He doesn’t know. And it’s that feeling of insecurity that is hurting him, mentally and physically, the not knowing. But also the thought of someone being there for him is nice; he can feel it in his chest, the warmth radiating from his heart from the contact of a different person, except that one male that comes 3 times a day, the nurse. He had grown used to the contact from him. The way he grips on a little too tight as they walk, the way he makes Harry lean on him, as if he can’t walk a little bit by himself, as if he isn’t an independent human, that’s how he knows when the stranger has arrived, he has a placid touch. He knows not to get ready to move when he is here, he knows to stay still and soak up the company, even after the one meeting, and the rather awkward passing over, he just _knows._

He doesn’t know how to react. All he knows is that he wants to feel more of this boy. Not just a simple graze on his arm. He trusts him not to pull back. Not to leave him. Not to abandon him. Just like everyone else. He latches onto the boy’s hand and links their fingers together. The boy doesn’t react for a while, but then he starts to rub soothing circles into his hand, it’s comforting to Harry, he’s not had someone try to make him feel comfortable for a long time, apparently it’s too much effort, when a simple touch like this can make him feel so relaxed, so calm, so peaceful. He doesn’t know how long they sit like this, but however long it is, it’s not long enough, he cherishes the time, and misses it as soon as it is gone.

-***-

Louis has been visiting Harry for weeks now. Each time it’s the same, he taps a rhythm, draws pictures, traces the contours of his body, and each time Harry holds his hand. Nothing special, but just as intimate all the same. He feels like he knows the boy, and each time he falls a little deeper for him, down where? He does not know. Maybe the hole he is digging for himself by visiting this helpless, vulnerable boy, he doesn’t really know, and maybe he doesn’t want to. They have progressed now, sometimes before he leaves, he will hug Harry, and Harry will recuperate the hug, will wrap his arms around Louis, and cuddle close to him, burying his head in his neck, rubbing his back. Sometimes Louis will climb on the bed when the chair is getting too uncomfortable and hard for him, and Harry will welcome him into his sanctuary and cling to his side, with Louis’ arms round him and his hand stroking the skin on his hip, his hand sneaking under his shirt to stroke his stomach. Louis thinks he is developing feelings for the boy, he doesn’t know why, or even how, when they have never even shared a simple conversation together and Harry can’t even string a few words together. But something’s just don’t have a straight answer ( _haha_ , the irony), and maybe this is just one of those things.

One day, just as Louis was leaving, Harry’s therapist was entering. She gave him a confused look, the last she had heard, Harry had no visitors, _ever,_  just as well really, they would just get bored of him, she had, but she’s paid to help him, and that is just what she is there to do. They would just bring him up to bring him back down again, and maybe this time he would hit rock bottom. She pulled Louis to the side _. She_ _needed to know._ As they spoke, she could tell that Louis genuinely cared for Harry, she didn’t know who he was, how he knew Harry, or why he was there, but there was something about him that screamed, ‘safe’ and ‘trustworthy’. She told him about Harry’s progress over the past few weeks, how he r _eally was_ getting better, how he may be able to get treatment for his eyes, to cure his blindness. Just a simple injection. That was all it would take. He had never been able to get to the point where there was a possibility it would work, but something had changed in him, and it was becoming to be possible, provided he worked that little harder. Something _really_ had changed inside Harry, he had something to fight for, he had a reason to get better, he had Louis, and that was all it had taken.

It was a game of tug-of-war, when he would be able to have the operation, if he was ready? Could the hospital afford to pay it, raise the funds? Was there any point? Mostly the negative was over-ruling the positive but Louis would try his god damn hardest to get his way, whatever it took.

He wanted Harry to see him, he wanted to Harry to see everything, the sky, the grass, the sun, the stars, the moon, _everything._ He would learn sign language, Louis would join too, and they would be able to talk. Or maybe, if Harry could remember some words, he could lip read, they could write secret love notes to each other, and Louis would keep them in a box under his bed and bring them out when he was feeling sad, and at Valentine’s day, or if he really just wanted to remember, anything was possible, and Louis was excited, _really_ excited.

He had so much excitement, so much joy; he had to tell Harry, but how? How could he let him know something had changed? Something good was going to happen? That the future was looking brighter? He had an idea, he didn’t know if it would cross the border between their ‘friendship’, but he was going to try.

**Louis had been admiring Harry’s lips for some while now. The fullness of them, the shade of light pink that fit so well with Harry’s pale skin complexion. The way he bit his lip and as he released, the blood that would rush back to the surface, and make the once pale, peach coloured skin, a dark red colour. That attracted Louis and it was really hard for him to hold back.**

Climbing onto the bed for the second time that day, he was the one to join their hands together, when usually it was Harry, but if he was going to do this, he needed to make Harry feel safe, like everything was under control, that he didn’t need to do anything, just sit in the passenger seat and enjoy the ride; he laced the digits together so they looked like one, two parts of a whole. Not really knowing _exactly_ what he was aiming for, he connected their lips. It wasn’t a kiss or a simple peck, it was a brush of lips, no particular movement involved, and it was perfect. A cheesy as it sounded, he could feel the sparks fly between them and he cou…who was he kidding? They were bloody _fireworks_ , and Louis never wanted to let this feeling go. He wanted to hold it with both hands and clasp it to his chest. He wanted to stay in this moment forever and keep replaying it.

-***-

Harry felt the dip in the bed, _he_ was back. Hadn’t he already been today? Surely he hadn’t missed him _that_ much. With all this interaction, he was starting to think more to himself, becoming more confident, starting to become the Harry he was before, a cheeky little bugger with a beautiful smile. Happy that the mysterious boy had come back, he was surprised to find that the boy was the first one to initiate the touch, surprisingly it was usually him, his shy, little, innocent self, and he was slightly nervous about what this meant, but if the boy had spent this much time with him already, surely he wouldn’t leave him now, right?

And _that_ was about the time when he felt the new sensation on his lips. He was shocked, frozen to the bed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t run away from this, but he didn’t want to, and he knew why. _This_ was the feeling he never expected to experience, one of the ultimate ways to show love, compassion, and care. And that was being given to Harry. Poor, little, Harry, the boy that couldn’t speak, hear or see, this wasn’t meant to happen to him, this wasn’t following the rule book, and sometimes you need to cheat, because sometimes that game isn’t as exciting if you follow the rules. All too soon the presence on his lips was gone, but the warmth radiating from the body beside him did not, that was his constant, his rock.


	3. Part Three (Final Part)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a really rubbish ending chapter but I'm still pretty sad to say its ended and just to let you know: None of the medical terms have been revised so I don't know if anything is true so it is all purely fictional. Also, if you want to do a Character Ask, I will do them, and I was thinking about writing a Prequel of the accident and about the bit when Louis mentions about remembering the feeling of being taking advantage of, so please comment your views. I also take prompts for any One Direction Bromance

Whether it’s just Louis being weird or normal young adult hormones, he really can’t keep his lips off Harry, or thinking about it altogether to be honest, not that he’s complaining. Harry’s lips are like a magnet to Louis, they pull him in and he struggles to be released. They still haven’t kissed full-on (yet), it wouldn’t feel right, Harry wouldn’t be able to say if he wanted to kiss him or not, it would feel like he was taking advantage, and that is one thing Louis would not like to do, he knows what it feels like and would not wish that on anybody, however nice their lips taste to the other person. And that is how he finds himself going to visit Harry nearly every day after work and university, completely ruining his social life, just to lay in silence, but that’s okay, Louis doesn’t mind.

-***-

Harry didn’t know if he could do this. It would either be a break through or a complete mess up. It could either surprise the boy and make him proud, or just completely confuse him, enough for him to leave.

He has been practising when he was alone. Saying, (that’s right, actually _speaking_ ) the word repeatedly to himself. He can’t hear it, obviously, so he doesn’t know if it sounds right, or if it is even recognisable as a word or relevant to the meaning, but it’s worth a shot. Now it was just the matter of gathering enough courage to try and speak.

As soon as he felt the fingertips on his arm, and the bed sinking, his courage wavered. He could do it, right? It was nothing special to anyone normal, he could do it before, so there is no reason he shouldn’t be able to do it now, he has said it enough over the past few days, had lots of practise. Taking a deep breath and pushing all the negative thoughts out his mind, he stuttered…

-***-

_“Hello”_

To say Louis was surprised was a massive understatement. He was definitely not expecting _that._ He was really freaked out and intrigued at the same time, _how? Why now?  Why had Harry chosen to speak today of all days? Should he reply?_ It’s not as if Harry could hear him, and they could start up a conversation, but it wouldn’t make it so awkward for Louis if he did and it would settle his morals, so he said a casual,

“Hey, love”

There we go, that’s a nice reply. Harry’s voice was beautiful, after years of not being used, it was croaky and scratchy and really low pitched, and it was gravelly, just as Louis imagined it would be, Louis could feel himself being enchanted already. He squeezed Harry’s hand, as a ‘thank you’, a ‘well done’, and a ‘wow! How the hell did you do that? Was it for me?’ sort of way. Harry seemed to get the message as he put his arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulled him closer, Louis clinged to his side, the usual position.

-***-

It had been a week since Harry had said his first word to anyone since he was disabled of his hearing and sight. When Louis came and visited every day, Harry would have a new word waiting for him, sometimes a simple, ‘light’, ‘what, or ‘star’, random words that had no meaning but they were special to Louis, precious words that he treasured, and words that he definitely did not write down so he would never forget them. The one word that stuck with Louis the most was ‘cat’, he really bellow laughed at that as soon as Harry had muttered it out, he had no idea why, or maybe he just didn’t want innocent Harry learning how absolutely filthy minded he was.

With all this improvement, Louis wondered if Harry’s therapist could tell the difference, and maybe he would be able to get an appointment date out of her for the injection. Evidently she had, because as soon as she saw Louis waiting outside the door for her, the first thing she said to him was,

“What did you do...? Actually no, don’t tell me, just carry on doing it” Louis retracted in shock. Okay then.

“You got a date yet?” Louis said vaguely, knowing she would know exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, next week, Thursday” she replied, waving her hand as if it was no big deal. She turned and flounced into Harry’s room, her heels clicking and her long, dyed blonde hair flying behind her. Louis fell back against the wall, his knees were shaking and he was nearly in tears.

_The date was set. Next week. Harry was going to be able to see again._

-***-

Time had dragged on for Louis, and he had found himself, on more than one occasion, doing pointless things to try and make the time go faster and to suppress his impatience. Let’s just say he wasn’t as sleep deprived as he used to be, he was kind of like a kid waiting for Santa to come on Christmas Eve, go to be earlier and you’ll be able to open your presents quicker, right? It was just a trick of the mind, and it wasn’t working.

But eventually, the day dawned. He was excited, and he was jumpy and agitated, not being able to sit still for a long period of time, and even when he was, he was fiddling with the hem of his hoodie or on his iPhone, he was probably more worried than Harry was right now, who had no idea what was going on, that’s for the better really he reasoned. Louis had decided to go an hour earlier than usual, he wanted time to be able to just lay with Harry, and imagine the future, if Harry would accept him. It’s not as if he would be able to see straight away and be able to run away into the sunset with Louis, he would have to keep a well-dressed bandage on around his eyes for around 3 days, and even when it was taken off and the big question was answered, he would have to stay at least another couple of days to be carefully watched and monitored. And that was when Louis was going to ask Harry to move in with him, temporarily, permanently, Louis wasn’t really fussed or bothered, one minute with Harry was worth ten without.

And that was how Louis found himself hours later having to be pulled off, kicking and screaming (careful not to hurt anybody, he only wanted to intimidate the doctors) off of a confused Harry, Liam and Eleanor (the friend that had been the reason for his encounter) was staring at him in amusement and embarrassment, not only for him, but for themselves, worrying about their choice of friends. When they finally managed to calm him down, after having Eleanor bribe him with carrots, he gave up and sat in the corner of Harry’s room, on the stone, cold floor, crossed legged, arms crossed, glaring at the door. He was basically an over grown toddler that could throw a very effective tantrum.

Harry was being carried into the room the next time Louis saw him, for a moment he thought he was dead, and had his mouth in an ‘O’ shape, perfect for screaming, until one of the nurses behind the one carrying Harry exclaimed,

“Unconscious! The treatment was effective” Louis nearly whooped for joy, but not wanting to show himself up even more from his last…erm…public display of feelings, he settled with waiting until Harry was laid down on the bed and cuddling up so close to him, nobody would know who’s legs were who’s from where they sat intertwined on the bed.

-***-

Louis sat in the chair opposite Harry, they were only a few minutes away from removing the bandage, and Louis was so anxious he was considering if it was too late to jump out the window and pretend he had never met Harry, but he knew he would not be able to do that, he owed it to Harry, and he wouldn’t be able to follow through with it anyway, he would just end up crawling back on his hands and knees begging for his forgiveness and a chance to get to know him again. All of a sudden, the lights were dimmed, and the cheap, un-affective blinds drawn shut, effectively closing out all the light with the only source a little lamp in the middle of the room, casting a gentle glow. Louis laughed nervously as a woman came in and placed her clipboard on a desk, and then went behind Harry and began to untie the knot. Once it was loose, she pulled the cotton off Harry’s head, ruffing up his curls a bit, and then quickly scurried to throw it in the bin and sat down daintily on her small, plastic chair, leaning forward, right on the edge, pen in her hand, watching Harry intently, ready to right down anything at all that happened and was worth recording for future medical research.

Harry blinked slowly, his eyes widening gradually as he became used to his surroundings. Then his eyes zeroed on Louis, rubbing his arm awkwardly, Louis smiled friendly, hopefully giving Harry some comfort. They stared at each other for a few moments, Harry getting a good first look at Louis, and Louis trying to see how Harry was judging him through his eyes.

“Are you him, the boy that comes?” Harry asked shyly, the words slightly muffled, but recognisable. Louis nodded, ducking his head but keeping his eyes firmly on Harry.

Harry’s lips then turned upwards slightly at the corners in a gentle smile as he gave a tentative wave and whispered,

“Hello” and that was when Louis lost all self-control.  He sprung up, out his chair and took the two stride journey to Harry’s chair, flinging himself into Harry’s lap dramatically and wrapping his arms around his neck, linking his fingers together behind it, and nuzzling his face into Harry’s shoulder, revelling in the close proximity. Harry patted his back carefully, not wanting to scare Louis away when he had only just got him, Louis smiled into his shoulder and weaved his hand behind his back to hold onto one of Harry’s the other one failing to carry on tapping and settled on Louis’ thigh instead, caressing the flesh lightly.

“You are really beautiful and cute” Harry said carefully, really hoping he had chosen the right words. Louis laughed into his shoulder, the giggles getting muffled; this boy was definitely going to be a charmer. Louis looked up into Harry’s green orbs which had been studying him intently, ignoring the woman scribbling away in the corner of the room, Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s, who’s eyes widened almost comically in shock, but didn’t pull away. They stayed like that for god knows how long until they were interrupted by a cough, spinning his head around, Louis was really tempted to flip the doctor the ‘V’ then resume the intimate touches with Harry, but she butted in first,

“You can go back to his room now, I have all the notes I need, you can spend as much time there as you want, alone” she snickered, almost bribing him, and okay, Louis could handle that.

-***-

It was exactly 5 days since Harry sight was renewed and he was still mesmerized by different colours, shapes, and people. Louis was currently in the process of teaching Harry how to write again, it was only a matter of re-jogging his memory, but he was patient and assertive so it was okay, he decided that was the best option and easiest way of communicating, and so far, he had been proven right, and Louis was happy to say that Harry was a quick learner.

Today was the day Harry was going to be released and was moving in with Louis, who was very prepared, buying a new television with subtitles on so Harry would be able to know what was happening and what was being said. The only problem was that he only had a one bedroomed flat, so it was either the couch or Louis’ bed for Harry, but he highly doubted it would be the sofa though, they had shared a bed many times before, in the hospital room, and just because they were sleeping wouldn’t make a difference, still it was Harry’s choice, and he would obey either way.

People stared as he proudly strutted out of the hospital complex gripping tightly onto Harry’s hand, either because he was gay or because they had never seen Harry before, he did not know, but he basked in the attention, the drama king (or queen?) that he was. With Harry having no clothes or luggage there was no packing involved, so first of all, a shopping date was on the cards.

**-***-**

**With Harry, it was like talking and kissing a sexy, lanky ten year old, he still had so much to learn, so much to do and experience, and Louis really wanted to join him in his discoveries, luckily their personalities aligned, like the stars, okay, okay, that was even too cheesy for Louis, but he didn’t care, he had Harry and that was all that mattered. Louis was also proud to announce that Harry didn’t mind sharing a bed so nightly snuggles were on the menu for them two.**


End file.
